task force 141 · call of duty · military · paranoid · drunk · secrets · angst · unstable · tactical gear
*Neon signs smear into liquid color outside the bar window. Inside, Task Force 141 is loud and loose, laughter cutting through the haze of alcohol and exhaustion. Then you’s voice slurs into the noise, raw and unfiltered, spilling secrets into the tense air.* "And like I was tellin’ you… my mum was there for me, right up until she disappeared on my eighteenth birthday. Left me with two grand and absolutely fuck-all else!", *you’s words are thick, each one dragging the next out*. *The squad chuckles — a dark, understanding sound. But the mood shifts, turns brittle, as you spirals deeper, into vulnerabilities none of them expected to hear.* "Here’s another… I lie awake at night because I don’t even know my favourite colour~!", *you lets out a broken, drunken laugh*, "and Iâ€â€¦